Spontaneity
by AlreadyPainfullyGone
Summary: AU. Dean is an EMT who gets a weird call out to a market where Castiel has just had what looks like a seizure. As he soon discovers though, 'weird' doesn't begin to cover it. CRACK   ANGST


_Yeah...I have no idea. My research for this one was...spotty at best. So, sorry to anyone who knows more about this condition than me, I didn't mean to offend anyone._

_This is crack, but...slightly angsty, heartfelt crack. _

Dean's only been an EMT for three months when he receives his weirdest call out. It's actually the weirdest call out anyone on the team has ever had, including the time Rufus found three strippers, a goat, and a senator at the bottom of a well in Brooklyn.

The thing is, it doesn't sound weird when Dean gets the call from dispatch. It sounds fairly normal, even a little bit dull, a guy having a seizure in the produce section of a small market in what passed for the 'busy local district' of a pretty poor neighbourhood.

Right away Dean was betting it was drug related, dispatch said the guy was young – it didn't take a genius to put together young guy, bad neighbourhood, sudden onset seizure and drugs. Dean had picked up four overdoses in that area in the last month alone.

When he got there, shoving gawpers aside and carrying his kit to the produce section, Dean figured he'd been right. The guy lying on the floor was scruffy, unshaven, pale, and wearing a bathrobe.

"Does anyone know this guy?" He asks the owner, standing worriedly by a pyramid of oranges.

"Never seen him before." The guy tells him.

Dean approaches the man on the floor, and kneels down next to him. The guy looks at him with panicky blue eyes.

"Hey, you feeling ok now?"

"Yes. Thank you." He says quietly.

"I'm Dean."

"Castiel."

"You ever had a seizure before?"

He shakes his head.

"Any recent head injuries, changes in medication?"

"No." Castiel flushes, "I'm sorry for causing all this trouble."

"Hey, it's no problem." Dean smiles easily. "I've still got to take you in, have you checked out."

Castiel looks like this is the very last thing he wants.

Good, thinks Dean, he'd forced Dean into a piece of shit call out, the least he could do was go pee in a cup and wait nervously for the positive drugs result.

Dean walks the guy out to the ambulance, and since there isn't any immediate danger he just sticks him in the passenger seat. Why contaminate the back and make another job out of it?

Castiel wraps himself firmly in his robe on the way out to the ambulance, and huddles in his seat like he's on his way to the slaughter house.

"So...uh...what'd you think happened?" Dean asks as he starts to drive.

Castiel looks straight ahead at the road, a worried look on his face. "I think I just fainted...I haven't eaten in a few days."

"Why?"

"I didn't have any groceries." Castiel murmurs. "My apartment is nearby...could you please just take me home? I don't like hospitals."

Dean frowns. "Like I said, I need to have you checked out, if something happens, and I didn't take care of you properly, I'd feel bad." Dean glances sideways, noticing that Castiel is biting his lip. "Why didn't you go get groceries right away? If your place is so close?"

"I don't go out."

"To the store?"

"Ever." Castiel shrugs. "My brother usually...he usually uh..." Castiel blinks, shivers, like he's having trouble concentrating. "He buys my food...brings it to me...does all my...uh...errands." He hisses and leans back in his seat.

"You ok?" Dean asks, uneasy growing with each second.

"I'm..." Castiel breathes heavily. "...fine."

"No, you're not." Dean flicks on his lights, the siren too. "Hang on."

"No, please..." Castiel gasps again. "I know what's wrong with me...it's ok, I just...I need, to go home."

"I don't think..."

And then Castiel arches in his seat, eyes closing, he bites down hard on his lip, but, as a shudder rakes his body, sound bursts through, a soft, helpless groan. He jerks, once, twice, and then falls back into his seat, flushing red and huddling up again.

"Please, take me home." He whispers. "Unit B, Building 12, Lex Park."

Dean shuts off the lights, stares at Castiel in disbelief.

"Did you just..."

Castiel closes his eyes and turns his face to the window. "It's called Persistent Genital Arousal Disorder." He mutters, miserable.

"Wow." Bites his tongue because of how insensitive that sounds. "Sorry...just...wow."

"Can I please go home?" Castiel murmurs.

"Sure, sure..." Dean loops around at the end of the street and cruises till his finds an apartment building that looks pretty much like a crack house.

"This it?"

Castiel opens his eyes, looks out, and nods.

"You want me to help you get inside?" Dean asks awkwardly.

Castiel opens the door and climbs out.

Dean gets out too, circling the ambulance to stand awkwardly, trying not to look at the front of Castiel's pyjama pants, which is wet and still tented.

"Shit." Castiel curses, pulling his robe around himself again, his face a mask of misery.

"Yeah." Dean agrees.

"I just..." Castiel glances at him. "I wanted...I was so hungry and I thought, hey, store's only ten minutes away. I can go, and get some food, and get back before it happens again."

Dean winces. "How many times...a day, does that...happen?"

"About twenty." Castiel shuffles forwards bitterly, approaching the apartment building door. "Be sure to tell your friends about it, you'll be dining out on this for weeks."

"Hey, I'm not going to tell anyone." Dean says, appalled, following Castiel towards the door.

"Oh really?"

"Yes. Really." Dean insists.

Castiel looks at him.

Dean shrugs. "Look...do you want me to, go to a different store, pick you up some food?"

"You'd do that?" Castiel says, unimpressed.

"Well, I did come all the way out here to help you." Dean points out. "You got a list?"

Castiel puts his hand in his robe pocket and produces a slip of paper.

"Ok, I'll get this, come back, and you can pay me back." Dean decides. "Half an hour, ok?"

"Ok." Castiel mutters.

Dean goes back to his ambulance and watches Castiel slowly climbing the steps inside the apartment building. Where the hell was his brother?

He drives to another market, a few blocks away, and picks out the stuff that Castiel has on his list. Chicken breasts, brown rice, dried noodles, microwave rice pudding, boxed macaroni and cheese...pretty much everything is bland and pale. Which Dean supposes is fair enough – he wouldn't exactly be eating chillies and knocking back champagne if he was coming his brains out accidently twenty times a day.

After an awkward few minutes thinking about it, Dean also gets some other stuff, things he thinks Castiel might like - a bag of chips, some candy bars, grapes and a fancy looking cheese plate. He pays for it out of his own pocket, figuring it's the least he can do for someone who's had the morning Castiel has.

Dean drives back to the apartment, and after a moments though, buzzes the apartment labelled ''. The front door unlocks, and Dean climbs the steps to the third floor, where the door opens a crack, and then widens, like Castiel is wary now he's on home ground.

"Thank you." He says stiffly, as Dean enters the apartment, and caries the brown bags to the kitchen. He can't help noticing how bare the place is. There's a futon and a TV in the living room, the kitchen has three pans hanging on the wall and a mini fridge. The only things that stand out are the books that line the hallway, and the DVDs on a shelf that runs around the top of the living room wall.

Dean puts the bags down in the kitchen an starts to unpack.

"How much do I owe you?" Castiel asks.

"Uh...about twenty bucks." Dean says, fumbling for the receipt. He unpacks the cheese and chips, and Castiel frowns.

"That wasn't on the list."

"Well, I thought you might like some extra stuff, just in case your brother's fallen off the edge of the world." Dean says.

"I just checked his facebook page...he's in India."

"And he didn't tell you?"

"He may have forgotten...besides, Gabriel is quite impulsive."

"What's he doing in India?" Dean asks, stowing boxes of macaroni in the cupboard.

"Getting married." Castiel catches his look. "like I said, impulsive."

"And he's the one that's supposed to take care of you?"

"He's the only one of my brothers who can stand to visit me...given my...episodes." Castiel says blandly. "The others write, send cards and gifts at Christmas...but I never see them. I used to have my groceries delivered but...it became awkward."

Dean bets it did.

"So, what do you do all day? If you can't go out?" Dean asks conversationally.

"I read." Castiel says simply. "Watch movies, TV, attempt to write more of my novel...and I talk to people online, people with conditions that also keep them housebound." He shrugs. "Sometimes I drink."

Dean looks at him, and feels a little sad. Sort of like how he feels when he goes to some old folks home and finds that no one ever visits the patient he's picking up – that there's no one to take care of them, or visit them in hospital. So, sometimes he goes himself, brings flowers or candy – tries to make them feel a bit better.

"That's really sad." He says, and could kick himself for how much of an ass he sounds.

Castiel tilts his head slightly. "Yes. It is."

Dean shifts from foot to foot. "Well...my shift ends in like...half an hour. I could just...stay here, we could...talk?"

Castiel seems to consider this. "Would you make coffee?"

"Sure." Dean says, relieved.

Dean makes the coffee in an old fashioned percolator, and adds milk and sugar before carrying it into the living room. Castiel sits down with a wince, wrapping himself closely in his robe. Dean is relieved to see that he's changed his pyjamas.

"How long do you usually stay...uh..." Dean gestures lamely, regretting the question as soon as he starts.

"Hours." Castiel mutters blackly. "Today it's been...since six am."

Dean hisses. He could not imagine how sore he'd be if he'd been hard for that long.

"I don't mind you asking questions." Castiel tells him. "As long as I get to ask some too."

"That's cool." Dean smiles.

"How long have you been an EMT?" Castiel asks.

"Three months. But...it took me a long time to qualify."

"Why?"

"I..." Dean feels his hands tighten around his coffee cup. "My, uh...Dad died."

"I'm sorry." Castiel says.

"He wasn't really around when it happened." Dean mutters. "So, have you always had this...or is it kind of a new thing?"

Castiel sips his coffee. "Since I was twenty one. Before that, I was pretty normal...I'd just left college, and started at this data entry job."

"So, you've been in this apartment for, what...a year?"

"Five." Castiel says. "I'm twenty-six."

"Shit." Dean says succinctly.

"Indeed." Castiel agrees. "I can't really do much else...go to work, go for a walk – church, the movies...kind of hard to do."

"I can imagine." Dean relaxes a little into his seat. "Ok, your turn."

"Who was your first girlfriend?"

"Kinda personal." Dean grins.

"That seems to be a theme of today." Castiel says wryly.

"Ok, first girlfriend was...this girl named Cassie, I was...maybe fifteen? But, uh...it didn't last that long."

"Why?"

"I slept with her brother." Dean winces. "Felt terrible about it...of course, my Dad made me feel worse."

Castiel frowns. "Are all conversations usually this...depressing?"

Dean startles them both by laughing. "The ones I have? Yeah...so, who was your first?"

"I had a boyfriend in college."

"Ahhh." Dean smirks. "Did you go a little freedom-crazy?"

Castiel blinks. "We just...liked the same things. He...well, he left me after this, thing started happening."

"Jerk." Dean says.

"I think it made him feel...trapped." Castiel shrugged. "Like I needed him too much."

"Doesn't mean he's not a jerk."

"Well, I haven't met anyone yet who could get past this." Castiel says. "Just...it either creeps people out, or attracts the wrong kind of people."

"I get that." Dean mutters. Castiel is kind of...well, he's not exactly hard to look at. Dean's been staring at him this whole time and he doesn't really want to stop any time soon. The idea of Castiel being alone, or worst, pursued by some dick with a fetish, kind of grates on him.

Castiel suddenly shivers. "Oh, God not again."

Dean has the presence of mind to leap forwards and take Castiel's coffee from him, before the other man starts to tense up and writhe, tipping over to lie on the couch, gasping for air. Dean can actually see Castiel's toes curling.

He puts the coffee down and goes to the bathroom, tears off a wad of tissue, and brings it back to where Castiel is now lying, limply on the couch.

Dean turns his back while Castiel cleans himself up.

"Thank you." Castiel murmurs tiredly.

"No problem." Dean tells him, pleasantly. Then, for no reason that he can actually pin down and look at properly, he sits down beside Castiel, fingers touching his hair lightly. Castiel closes his eyes meekly and sighs.

"I've missed this." Castiel murmurs eventually. "I miss sex but...oh, I miss this more...just being with someone, after."

Dean sits back a little, and with some wordless coaxing, manages to get Castiel to lie with his head in his lap, so he can stroke his hair, and touch his finger tips to his bruise coloured eyelids.

Castiel sighs. "I'm going to fall asleep." He warns.

"S'ok...I got nowhere to be." Dean mutters.

When Castiel does fall asleep, Dean waits for about an hour, then slides out from under him, and fetches his duvet from the utilitarian bedroom down the hall. He wants to stay but...it's strange and sudden, and he needs some time to just...stop feeling crazy. He tucks Castiel up on the couch, and leaves a note on the coffee table.

_Castiel,_

_This was nice. Can we do it again? _

He writes his phone number down, then pauses, adding,

_I really want to sleep next to you. Does that make me weird?_

Dean goes back to his own apartment, listens to a fresh, worried voicemail from Sam, asking him if he's actually going to show up to the yearly memorial service for Dad this time.

For the first time in three years, Dean calls him back and tells him that he is going to go, and to ask what kind of flowers should he bring.

Sam says white.

Dean calls up a florist and asks for an arrangement of roses, all white. As an afterthought he asks if they have any potted plants. He uses most of that month's pay on the flowers and a bonsai tree. He also feels faintly ridiculous doing it because, really, he knows Castiel isn't going to call.

Dean's almost never wrong about things like this, but, when Castiel does call, he's glad to have found an exception to his relationship instincts.

"Would you like to come over again?" Castiel asks bluntly.

"Sure, what time?" Dean replies.

"Any time." Castiel says pointedly. "But...I'm going to order in some take out for 7, so, if you could be here to answer the door..."

"I will be." Dean assures him.

There's a short silence.

"Bring a toothbrush, and a change of clothes." Castiel says quickly, and then hangs up.

Dean sits there and wonders what this means for about fifteen minutes. Is Castiel asking him to stay over? For sex? Or just for company?

Dean finds he doesn't mind.

When he shows up and half six, the apartment is just as clean and sparse as it was on his last visit. He knocks on the door with some difficulty, and presents a fully dressed Castiel with the bonsai tree. Castiel takes it, bemused.

"I thought... it might be nice for you to have something, alive, around." Dean says awkwardly.

Castiel says simply. "I've read a lot about bonsais" he seems happy to have finally acquired one.

The take out arrives, and Dean answers the door and pays his half. It's Chinese, which is nice enough, and he and Castiel eat on the couch.

Castiel comes twice while they're eating and watching a documentary on tiger poaching that happens to be on. Both times Dean removes whatever Castiel is holding from his hands, and waits patiently for the attack to subside, trying not to let Castiel's soft mewls of pleasure get to him. Castiel goes to the bathroom to clean up afterwards, and then they carry on with the evening like nothing's happened.

Dean's almost surprised when, as the credits roll on the tiger show, Castiel lies down with his head in his lap, gently opening Dean's zipper and lifting his dick towards his mouth. Dean spreads his legs, leans back into the sofa, and strokes Castiel's hair with one hand.

Afterwards, Castiel wipes his mouth casually, and says. "Can we go to bed now?"

They strip off, climb into Castiel's bed, and curl up together.

Sometime later, Castiel whispers, "This is really weird, isn't it?"

Dean rests his forehead on Castiel's shoulder. "I think this is the most normal thing I've done for a while."

"Me too." Castiel admits.

"So...what happens now? What do we do?" Dean asks.

Castiel actually seems to think for a while. "I think...we do what everyone else does. We...talk, we do things together...we have sex...and we work around the awkward stuff."

It makes sense, at least to Dean, he has plenty of awkward stuff of his own.

"You can have sex?" he asks instead.

"Of course." Castiel sighs. "I think that I'd enjoy being that close to you...I liked tonight...making you feel good."

"You think, maybe I can do the same?" Dean asks, awkwardly, very aware that when he'd googled PGAD it had told him that sufferers sometimes started associating sex, and orgasms, with pain, rather than pleasure.

"You did already." Castiel yawns. "It's not all about the sex...nothing should be."

Dean kisses his throat, and Castiel squirms delightedly, a small smile twitching his mouth.

Dean changes quite a lot of things about his life in the next few weeks. He changes his routine, his relationship ideals, and his opinion of Castiel's brother, when he returns, deeply tanned and extremely apologetic.

One of the first things to change is Dean's idea of 'weird'. Because, sure, weird call outs could be ugly, scaring, stressful, funny, unbelievable or disturbing. But 'weird' didn't have to mean 'bad'. Just unexpected, a little unusual, and maybe a little life changing.


End file.
